Read the Prologue and Chapter 1 of Forbidden Captive…

A Viking/Shapeshifter Slow-Burn Enemies to Lovers Romantasy

Prologue 

Riker

Showing fear was a weakness. 

A death-sentence. 

Vikings could not be afraid. 

But when I heard my sister’s desperate shouts . . . My entire world stilled with fear.

I hurled from my cot, scrambling for the door as fast as I could. Identical footsteps appeared behind me as I ran down the hall.

Annora’s bedroom was the first room beside mine, but that wasn’t where her shouts were coming from.

At the other end of our house—our parents’ bedroom door was flung wide open. As I ran toward it, I could see that it was draped in shadow, but the very marrow in my bones knew that was where Annora’s voice was coming from.

Rather than letting fear grip me, I reached for anger until I was heaving with it—until I felt like I could tear the entire house apart with my bare hands. 

I reached their bedroom. And I saw red.

There was too much blood. 

Something in my chest withered. A breath heaved through me.

All I could see was Annora’s blood.

She looked so small, I was afraid to touch her.

And I could do—nothing.

There was too much blood. 

Helpless and useless. The realization was so consuming and weighed me down so fully that it was nearly suffocating. Tears racked through me. Each drop fell to land on the knees of her nightgown. 

She couldn’t speak by the time her eyes found me. I watched how rapidly the light left her crystal-blue eyes. Still, when her eyes stopped seeing my face and the world around us, it seemed so sudden.

I didn’t care if I was showing weakness.

I didn’t care as I let fear swallow me whole. Agony suffocating my heart, I allowed my tears to fall.

Chapter One

Zyra

No shapeshifter had ever taken me seriously. And as mashed strawberries trailed down my cheeks and stuck to my hands, I didn’t blame them. I groaned, more than a little tempted to turn around and head back to the warmth of my bed. My groan ended with a slight snarl as I forced my feet to move. 

Heat flushed my cheeks as I wiped the fruit from my face, the rag scratchy against my cheeks. The shelves facing into my small kitchen held every nut, berry, herb, syrup, preserve, pickled vegetable, and even oil any one person could ever need. Each brightened up the kitchen. I stepped around the wooden countertop more often used as a kitchen table than the actual table beside the shelves. Light peeked in through the windows on either side of the front door, casting rays across the hall and into the kitchen. After grabbing a jar stuffed full of jam, I had just reached the counter, ready to pop open the lid, when the door burst open. I paused but didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Corinna slammed the door, shutting out the murmurs of the borough and blocking the light.

“Too loud. Too early,” I mumbled to her when I found words, speaking for the first time that morning.

“Too cold, too,” she offered, removing the hood that kept her face in shadow. When she did, she revealed sharp red tattoos that snaked up her right hand and traveled up across her arm to her shoulder. They only came to a stop after winding up the side of her face, when they disappeared into her dark hair. “Thank the Great Spirit you keep this place warm.”

I fought not to roll my eyes. The borough stayed plenty warm thanks to the tree and how the cavern narrowed the closer one got to the entrance. We had drafts but it wasn’t like snow blew inside.

Before I could finish opening the jar, Corinna sauntered across the room and snatched it from my hand. She proceeded to hop onto the counter, crossing her legs, tossing the jar from hand to hand.

I didn’t dare mention the pureeing incident to her.

Catching my disapproving glare, a slow smile spread across her face. “You invited me to breakfast.”

“I didn’t realize you would be stealing my jam.”

“I’m stealing your bread, too. Hand it over.”

I released a small sigh. Despite having grown up together, the friendship between Corinna and I had its limitations. I was nothing more than a glorified apprentice, while she had grown into a warrior for Haiden’s bidding. Navigating whether she was speaking to me as a friend or as my superior left me on edge at all times. Even when we weren’t under Haiden’s thumb. 

“I could just tell you to get over it and go hunt for your food.”

That. That right there was why I walked on eggshells.

I could only imagine how she would react if I said something similar to her.

I scoffed as I unwrapped the loaf of bread I had traded for the day prior, cutting a slice for each of us. The jam was made from a mixture of berries, which would pair perfectly with the sourdough. Most of my nights were spent right where I now stood. Typically, I was alone, though. 

“What are you doing today?” I asked for a change in topic. I hand her slice over to let her spread her own jam.

“No idea,” she said as she spun the lid of the jar off, flicking it to the floor. “I haven’t seen Haiden yet.” 

I nodded, taking a bite of plain bread. I nearly spat it back out, but Corinna handed over the jam before I had to take drastic measures. 

Haiden, the Chief of Waylria, played favorites. While I mostly pickled vegetables and made fruit preserves for trade despite working under Haiden, Corinna and Nabil were Haiden’s esteemed shadows and warriors. Because they followed his every command. He rarely made me report to him anymore. But Corinna and Nabil were under strict orders to meet with him every morning. 

“I think I’m just going to head out, then.” Averting my eyes, I popped the last bite of jam-covered bread into my mouth before heading to the shelves again. 

Corinna took a massive bite as she glanced around the cramped space. A cooking pot overtop kindling, a water basin, the wooden countertop she sat perched on, and the table from where I had grabbed one of my bags to stuff the day’s necessities inside.

Corinna released a long sigh. “Do you get bored of pickling and jamming?” 

Do you get bored of following Haiden’s every whim? I kept grabbing things off the shelf, but allowed my eyes to glance at the door periodically. 

Inside, it was impossible to tell whether it was early or late morning. Either way, I was ready to make my way down to the trading stalls. Afterward, I would be ready to come home to isolate myself with more pickling. The realm of Nedfin—since they were a realm that stood for healing, farming, and peace—was the source for all crops and orchards. Our realm, Waylria, often traded for their fruits and vegetables by offering them back as pickled or preservatives. Food kept longer, and farming could continue without guilt of waste. 

“No,” I told her. “Why would I? It’s not like there’s much more to do.” 

Aside from portioning food to help it last longer and helping Waylria and those in other realms, the trading stall provided a sense of community. It was a place where everyone stood on even ground. While there were favorite items for trade, there was no favoritism of those doing the trading. 

Everyone had a stall and everyone supported each other’s stalls. If one person didn’t have something, they would direct to another’s dealing. 

It was one of the few places where I did not have to walk on eggshells. 

Corinna lets out another long sigh before I watched her push off the counter and start for the door out of the corner of my eye.

She pulled up her hood when I turned to her. “I have to leave, but thank you for breakfast.” She paused. “You could try standing up for yourself one of these days, you know, when you get bored.”

I stuffed the last jar into my bag before meeting her at the door. She kept a careful eye on me the entire way, as if waiting for something. This time, it was my turn to sigh. “I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start making demands.”

I didn’t know what would happen if I approached Haiden about expanding my responsibilities again. I had already asked to be more involved once, and that had gone worse than I had anticipated. What more could I do anyway? My own parents hardly spent time with me. Why would Haiden treat me as anything more when even they didn’t? 

I shook my head, struggling to swallow around the lump in my throat. 

Corinna merely nodded, then opened the door. When I stepped out behind her, I swallowed again. Corinna stepped to the edge of the top step leading up to my front door. She didn’t even look back before she flung herself forward, shifting into a raven. Furiously flapping her wings, Corinna glided through the borough until she reached the waterfall, where she disappeared into Haiden’s quarters. 

I stood envious of her effortless shift into flight. 

Running, growling, and hunting was all my shift seemed good for. A mere wolf. No wonder Haiden thought me beneath Corinna and Nabil.

I shoved those thoughts to the shadows of my mind and, rather than shifting to race to the market on all fours, walked down the endless stone steps on human legs. Murmurs met my ears, growing louder the further into the borough I went.

There were stairs upon stairs to climb down before reaching the paths that split off. All the winding footpaths joined at the center—where the Great Spirit upheld the ceiling with sturdy branches that stretched across all corners of the vast cave, alighting the dome with its orbs of fruit and bright green leaves. 

Myth told of how we were birthed from the tree, having burst from its roots and climbed from the ground. And tradition upheld ritual blessings where we discovered what animal form we could shift into. The tree was Waylria’s source of light and life. 

Memories of having the glowing fruit spread across my forehead did anything but bring a smile to my face.

But I refused to think about that when I was stepping into the market. 

Each stall resembled that of a cramped home. Each stall barely fit more than two people. Once squeezed through the door, someone would be met with a small wooden block for a counter and walls packed with items for trade. With a few already setting up for the day, I offered a tentative smile as I passed. Lizeth, whose stall was beside my own, was the only one who noticed as she set a handcrafted bowl on a table just outside.

 My walls were lined with shelves and some still had a few leftovers from the previous day. I didn’t bother setting my bag down; I kept it braced on my shoulder while refilling the empty space on the shelves. While others offered things such as bowls carved with intricate designs or weapons or even clothing and draperies, I offered preserves and pickled foods. Others traded fresh fruit, vegetables, and spices from Nedfin, too, but I was the only one who had mastered preservatives. My ability to balance the sweetness and bitterness within preserved foods was what Haiden used to claim I was more of a necessity when it came to trade. Not only with our people but with Nedfin, to continue the back and forth of goods between our people. 

That was where I was an asset.

The glass of the jar in my hand splintered beneath my palm.

My animal skin was not that of a raven like Corinna and Nabil, but I was his messenger whenever a produce runner came to Waylria. That was when I was allowed in Haiden’s chambers. That was my time of importance. And yet, though I dealt with trade between realms for Haiden, another world felt like an impossible reality. Nedfin’s runners came to us since it was too dangerous for shapeshifters to leave Waylria.

Our lands were where we were safest from Vikings.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This has not been professionally edited by my editor yet. At this time, Forbidden Captive is in Dee’s Notes hands to make this book flow and shine bright like a diamond!